Shipyard
by robspace54
Summary: Cadet Montgomery Scott continues his training at Starfleet Academy. But the aftermath of the USS Grizzly haunts him. Should he stay at the Academy?
1. Chapter 1

**Examinations**

Cadet Montgomery Scott wiped the sheen of sweat off his brow as the exam continued. The equations glowed on the screen as he struggled to make sense of the tensor space-time equations. They seemed to mock him, as he tried again and again to make the data fit. Then he saw it! There was a tiny wiggle in the quantum feedback stream. By adjusting for that time lag, the data fell into place, the equation smoothly fit to the data. He put the pen down in satisfaction, just as the timer sounded.

"Gentlemen and ladies, pens down if you please! Time's up!" The gruff test monitor cast his eyes over the group of men and women arrayed before him. He chuckled inside seeing the looks of dismay as the struggling engineering students gave in to his entreaty. All look beaten and worn out. All but one, that is. A dark haired cadet was sitting there with a delighted look on his face. Oh, yeah. _Him_. "Scott! What are you looking so smug about?"

Scotty turned his grinning face to the man. "Why, that was easy! Give me a hard one, sir!" There was nothing quite like needling the instructors. The rest of the class groaned aloud.

The instructor tried not to react to the provocation, but was not entirely successful. "We shall see, Mr. Scott. We'll see how you do! Perhaps red marks will cover your test!"

The still smiling student rose to his feet. "Do your worst, sir. Do your worst." Then he followed his classmates out of the exam room.

"Why do you always have to do that, Scotty?" The questioner was a trim blonde woman, barely rising to his armpits. Her name was Amanda Hawker, and she liked Scotty; a lot. But he could be so irritating at times.

"Amanda, you canna' let them think that they can best us. It's like dealing with wild animals. Never show 'em fear."

"Scotty, one of these days that will get you tossed out on your ear."

"Me? Tossed out? Nay. It will be me doing the tossing, someday. Now how about some coffee?"

Amanda looked at her schedule. "Sure, just have to check on something. I'll meet you down in the Café in a few minutes."

Scott headed down the hallway, past other students commiserating with one another after that killer exam. He waved to a few, although most refused to meet his face. He knew why. Part was envy and part was jealousy. He'd been given a big boost by the commendation that Captain Larsen of the

_USS Grizzly_ had heaped on his shoulders after his field assignment. That boost had translated itself into renewed vigor in his studies, and he was busting the curve in every class this term. Whistling a jaunty tune he passed his classmates on his way to the turbolift.

He entered the Star Café across Harriman Square from the main Academy buildings. The Star Café dated before the very beginnings of Starfleet Academy it was said. Its worn booths and tables had a homey atmosphere, one that years of students had used well over the years. He blinked as he entered the dim-lit room. He surveyed the packed room, now filling with students blowing off steam.

"Scotty! Get over here! I just heard you stuck it to old Walters again!" A red-haired cadet waved to him from a booth.

He put on his best smile and joined the group. Here were his best friends. Ja'Tokk, a Thokka from Omnos, smart and witty Tom Rathburn, scowling Rick Wickwire, the elegant and cool Juana Mantilla, and the red-haired Edward Jenkins. He slid into the booth. "Aye that I did. Laddies and lassies you have to let those codgers know that they work for us. It's their job to educate us. So why not let them know how good a job they've done?"

Rathburn interjected. "But man, if you keep zinging them like that, some day it might backfire." His dark skinned face took on an ominous look. "Maybe you need to lighten up. You weren't like this last year. When did you get so cocky?"

"Scott, haven't you figured out that they get back at all of us? Not just you. I'll bet that Walters is grinding his grading axe at this very moment." Rick Wickwire was just getting worked up. He cleared his throat. "I studied until the very last minute, and I still couldn't get it all in. I'll bet you got done in time too!"

"Yes, I did Ricky. I was prepared." He smiled at Wickwire, knowing that this conversation was heading downhill. "Did you not see that on that last problem it was a setup? All you had to do was…" He was interrupted by Amanda Hawker breezing in and dropping down on the seat next to him.

"Scotty, pulleeze don't tell us how you figured it out. I know that I didn't get to the last problem, and I'm pretty certain that you're the only one that did. So don't rub it in." She was right of course, so Scotty promptly clamped his mouth shut. He signaled to the barista who gave him a nod and started on his usual order.

Jenkins took a pull of his mug then slammed his hand on the table. "I barely squeaked through my Basic Warp Theory last term, but I think I really aced the exam in Advanced Concepts this time! And if I don't do well, I suppose Starfleet can always use some good Maintenance Engineers on Pluto Station." He shrugged as if to say "Oh well."

They all nodded in agreement, casting regretful looks at each other.

Ja'Tokk shook his large shaggy head and pressed his scaly hands to his face. "Friends, I fear that this will be my last term here. You know that my grades have not too high, and my first-mother has requested a copy of my grades. So, knowing what they are likely to be, I will be working at _Pot-thad_ in a few weeks, I fear."

Juana Mantilla leaned over the table and took his elbow in her hand. "Ja'Tokk, come on. It can't be that bad, can it?"

"Oh yes, it will be Juana, my human friend. _Pot-thad_ is not that bad as most syndicates go. My eldest half-brother will have a special job for me there, I am certain. Our family has owned the _Pot-thad_ business for nearly eighty cycles, so I would gladly work there with some pride, but it is not Starfleet. But the asteroid mines in our system are very bad places to be. Too much radiation and heat being so near our sun. My first-mother made it very clear that there I would be working, if I do not graduate this term. This is my second chance in a fourth year here. So this is likely to be my end at Starfleet."

"Technically, we're not yet in Starfleet yet." Amanda looked at Scotty sitting next to her and gave him a non-verbal cue for help. "Give the grades a chance to be posted. Ok?"

Scott got the message and waded into cheer up their friend. "Ja'Tokk, if it comes to that it will work out. Why the things you have learned here will help you out, all of us, no matter what comes."

"Oh, like scraping corrosion off plasma tubes. Right," he said, sarcasm dripping from his lips. "Most fun I've ever had." He coughed a few times. "Man, I cannot get rid of this cough."

"You didn't enjoy your time aboard the _Intrepid_?" Hawkins rolled her eyes. They had all heard it too many times.

"No, I did not. I'd thought I'd get useful experience on a real starship. But no! I was stuck with the lowest, scummiest, details they could find. And that Chief! There wasn't a moment in eight weeks I could call my own."

Juana Mantilla cleared her throat. "Rick, not every posting is so great. You did get out to Epsilon Indii, didn't you? Must have been neat to see some Andorians. At least you got out of Sol system. I was stuck on a rundown old _Ranger_, the_ Puma_. We ran around for six weeks, while System Defense Command used us for target practice. It was not so much fun. She was a rust bucket and the crew was old and worn down. But I did get the chance to oversee power systems a few times, even sat watch with the Chief Engineer twice. It wasn't that bad. But I sure wish we'd gone somewhere."

"Yeah we did pick up some Andorians on a scouting trip, but they didn't seem too friendly. But, Juana weren't you part of a war game? That must have been something." Rick was all ears now.

"Yeah, on the _Puma _we spent nearly all the time jumping from Yellow to Red Alert and back again. Didn't get a decent meal for days. All at a measly warp five too. Meanwhile we got buzzed by every attack craft in the sector. Tough being a low and slow target, you know?"

Scotty broke in and spoke softly. "I heard a wee bit of scuttlebutt that every _Ranger_ might be getting a warp upgrade soon. I don't think they'll be poking around at warp five much longer."

Juana's ears went to full sensor sweep. "Wherever did you hear that?"

"Oh, I don't know." He looked at the clock on the wall. "Look at the time. Have to go!" Scotty jumped up and left, keying his ident at the door to deduct the coffee from his allocation.

Jenkins yelled. "Hey, Scotty!" but he was out the door. "Why did he take off so quickly?"

Hawkins sat bolt upright. "Don't know. He hasn't talked too much about his deployment. Wasn't he on the _Grizzly_? Isn't she a _Ranger_?" She sensed that something had happened out there, but what?


	2. Chapter 2

**Family Matters**

Scotty wandered down the Square, not caring where he went. After a few minutes of walking, he stopped where he could see San Francisco Bay in the distance, with the ancient but still vital Bay Bridge standing tall. As he pondered the vision of the long-ago engineers and architects, he was brought back to the moment he pushed the button that collapsed the warp field bubbles on the _Grizzly_, launching a slug of steel into the pirate ship. He again heard himself cheering, along with the engine room crew, as the menacing vessel disintegrated into glowing gas. But he wondered if it felt so good then, why were his hands shaky every time he thought about it?

Just then, a young couple walked past him and entered a small shop. His eyes followed them to the doorway, and he realized it was a jewelry shop. The look on their faces told the entire happy tale. He wondered how many years they'd be together. Contract marriages were legal now, but his mum and pap had done it the old way. They settled in Linlithgow, in old Scotland and there they had stayed together, raising him and his younger sister. They've been together for over twenty five years now, and their lasting love was so obvious. Great parents he had and a lovely sister. He wondered if his sister was still dating that power plant specialist. Seemed like a nice guy. Preston was his last name. He realized that he had been staring through the shop window for too long, so he turned to go and bumped into an older man. "Excuse me," he muttered.

"That's all right, Mr. Scott." Dr. Walters was staring at him from under a jaunty cap.

"Sorry, Doctor Walters. I didn't see you."

"That's all right cadet." The professor could see that Scott had been wool-gathering. "Nice day, isn't it?"

Scott nodded. "Yes, the weather controllers have made another fine one for San Fran."

"When I was a student here, there were too many times the fog was so thick you couldn't see your past you nose. All a product of global warming shifting the Pacific Current. But that's all so long ago, no one seems to remember."

"Aye, sir. The 20th and 21st centuries made a mess of the environment, not to mention the Eugenics Wars."

"All in all, a nasty business we're just now cleaning up."

"Yes sir. Too true. Dr. Walters, I would like to apologize for my outburst today," he said, sounding sincere.

"Son, that's alright. Apology accepted. Do you know that you passed that exam with flying colors?"

"Well, sir, I had hoped. That little surprise on the last problem threw me for a minute or so. But I could see how the manifold equation pulled it all back together."

Walters laughed. "I've been stumping students on that one for years. That problem has become an institution at the Academy, almost like me. But perhaps not for long."

", are you retiring? I think that you have a way of challenging the students. Your course has a way to separate sheep from goats. I would hate to see you leave."

"Thank you, son. That's high praise coming from Cadet Scott." Walters chuckled. "But I've been at the Academy longer than twice your years, my boy. Might be time to retire somewhere and soak these old bones in the sun."

"You're welcome, sir."

Walters looked hard at the young man. "Mr. Scott, I'd like you to come see me in a few days, if you would."

"Of course, sir. What time would be convenient?"

"How about Friday at thirteen hundred? I have some free time then."

"Friday, sir. I'll be there." Scotty brightened a bit. "And thanks for the word on the grade."

"No problem. All my pleasure. Good evening to you, Mr. Scott," and grinning, he strolled off.

Scotty watched the old professor walk away, wondering how much Dr. Walters knew about his field assignment. It almost seemed like he knew all about it. "Scotty, me lad, you'd better watch your tongue, or 'twill be hell to pay." Then he headed back to the Academy grounds.

After a long and wayward walk back to the Academy, he found himself at the upper student barracks. Emerging on level twelve, he opened his dorm door, and saw his room mate Moriko Yamanaka sprawled on their sagging couch, a bottle in hand. As mere plebes they would have been in a true barracks, but as mighty fourth years they rated a shared room.

"Scotty, my old and missing roommate! Where have you been? Aceing a few exams, have you? Making life tough on the rest of us?" Yamanaka's sarcasm dripped.

"No Mori, I went for a walk. Doing a bit of thinking. Looks like you've havin' a drop or two."

"Well, after the disaster I made of my Fire Control simulation today, I might as well drown my sorrows. Perhaps you'd like to join me?" He swigged more from the brown bottle. "Come on, I managed to destroy half of the flagship today by being slow on the mark. Those electronic Klingons chewed us up! Come on! Have a belt!"

"No, I'd better not. I'm scheduled for an away team drill tomorrow and I need to be sharp. Besides, if one of the Proctors would catch us, well, I'd not want to jeopardize all my work for a wee dram."

"Scotty, come on. It's just a little drink. Ah, what's the use? With my grades, I'm not certain I'll be here next term, let alone next week. So be it." He drank again, and looked quizzically up his room mate. "Still in a dither, eh? We've all noticed it. What's eating you?"

Scott stood ramrod straight facing his questions but he didn't, in fact, dare to answer.

"Well, my fine friend, I'd suggest that you run a full diagnostic on your own systems. There may be a few bugs in the program, you know?" Mori drank more and his head began to slide lower and lower as the synthahol did its work.

Scotty leapt forward and grabbed the bottle before Mori dropped it, whose head was now almost level with the cushions. He eased his spent roommate down onto the couch and while examining the bottle was tempted. "Mori, me lad, if you only knew. Aye, if you only knew." He retrieved a blanket and covered him. Then he threw the bottle into the recycler and went to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Field Work**

Next morning, an hour before San Francisco dawn broke, an instructor was briefing four cadets. Their attention was riveted by Instructor Porter, whose lined face glared at them as if they were something on the bottom of a boot. "You will proceed from the beam-in point to the highest point of visible ground and erect a subspace beacon like this mockup." He indicated a lopsided meter long cylinder with protruding boxes on the table before him. "You will then activate the beacon and call for pick up by beam out. You have five hours to complete the exercise. Cadet Hawkins will be in charge during this exercise. Any questions?"

"Sir!" Amanda Hawker's voice rang out. "Do we get any intel on the beam-in point or objective?"

"The rules of the exercise do not permit me to say. You'll have standard team gear, so I don't think it will be the Arctic, but I have been wrong in the past." Porter smiled fiercely.

Rick Wickwire started to mutter under his breath.

"Cadet Wickwire! You have a question?"

"No sir."

"Good, so keep it zip lip."

"Yes sir."

"And you, Jenkins? Anything to add to your unhappy friend?" Porter was taking his time needling them.

"No sir." Edward Jenkins looked a bit off this morning and he felt it too. Must have been all that coffee last night. He'd not slept a wink.

Porter turned to the fourth team member. "And now here's our Mr. Scott." He sneered. "Nothing from the brightest boy? No?"

Scotty steadily returned Porter's look. "No sir."

Porter tried to stare him down, but knew he had faint hope of succeeding. "Oh, I have heard of you, Mr. Scott. Oh yes. Just remember, I've got my eye on you!" He swept his eyes to the chronometer. "That's it! You have five minutes to report to Transporter 7A in this building. Now either do me proud or don't come back! Dismissed!"

The students jumped up and rushed out the door, then started to jog. "I can't believe they sent us to the furthest transporter!" Wickwire was bellowing. "Of all the lousy, rotten…"

"Rick, just shut it! This will be tough enough, without you bellyaching again! Come on! Faster!" bellowed Amanda Hawker as she took off at a dead run.

Scotty caught the eye of Jenkins as they ran after Hawker. "Edward, me boy, I think we're being set up. Making us dash a kilometer to the transporter, a rush to get geared up and then who knows what?"

Jenkins snorted. "Oh, I think it's the same old thing. Since we're seniors they just want to deflate us a bit."

"Aye that they will. Now get a move on or Amanda will leave us in the dust!" Scott put on a burst of speed, managed to catch up with her at the Transporter room. "Amanda, are you trying to set another track record?"

"Just because I got third in the twenty K last year doesn't mean I don't want to win!"

A gasping Wickwire stumbled in, grabbing the door frame to keep from falling. "I need to get more exercise!" He coughed and gagged a few times.

A tall transporter tech at the console grinned at him. "Cadet, I think you'll get plenty in a few minutes! Here!" He held out a small duffle.

Scott grabbed it and started to rummage through it. "I see phasers, tricorder, a medkit, two canteens … where's the beacon?"

"Right there on the transporter pad. I think you'd better get on as time is tight."

"Me lads and lassie, shall we?" Scotty swept his arm in an ushering arc. "Off to who knows where, eh? Any clues?" His classmates stepped onto the pad.

"No cadet, you'll just have to figure it out." The tech pushed controls and then the four cadets disappeared into beams of light. "And I think you know right about now…"

A gust of chill air and a swirling dust cloud greeted them as they materialized on a flat and hard packed surface. In the predawn dimness they could see a low sandy plain, surrounded by low hills and high ridges. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon, lighting the sky with tinges of pink. There was no plant life visible only sand and rocks.

"It looks we're in Death Valley!" Amanda was squinting into the rising sun as she surveyed their surroundings.

"Doesn't matter where we are! Let's break out the gear and get going. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish!" Wickwire coughed. "Man this dust is bad. Let's get going."

Scott opened the duffle and passed out the meager clutch of supplies. Each took a phaser and communicator. Jenkins took the tricorder and a canteen. Hawker took the medkit and the other canteen. She quickly opened it and took a drink.

"Amanda, don't you think we need to save it?" Wickwire shook his head and cleared his throat. "Desert, you know?"

"Yes, but better to store water inside than out, especially when you're thirsty, and I am thirsty."

Scott hefted the subspace beacon, slinging it over his shoulder with the carrying strap. "Jenkins, which is the tallest ridge?"

Jenkins finished scanning and he pointed to a distant peak. "That one. The big black mountain. That's going to be a climb. I read 1,200 meters above local altitude and about fifteen kilometers away."

Hawker looked at her team. The looked good to her. "Right. Wickwire, you've got point."

Rick moved out. "Aye, aye, Amanda." He coughed a few times, but set a fast pace in the too cool air.

They started out well enough, but as the sun rose in the next few minutes, the sun's bright ray struck with a vengeance. Stumbling over the occasional rocks they made steady time, although the distance to be traveled weighed heavy on them.

Jenkins broke the silence after an hour. "We've come about five klicks and we're almost to the foothills. How about a short break?" They paused for a few sips of water.

"Is there any sun block in that kit? I'm getting fried." Wickwire reached for the medkit and pulled out a tube of cream. He slathered some on his face and passed the tube to Scott who gravely applied some.

"Here, Edward. You'll be a mite toasted, if you don't use some." Scott passed the tube to Jenkins.

"Thanks, I guess my genes aren't set up for this environment. Ginger hair and all." He looked around. "Boy this sure doesn't look anything like home. Back on Vega Colony there were no deserts at all, and with the jungle, no one every really saw the sun, let alone needed sunscreen."

Hawker interrupted. "If you two are done discussing beauty secrets, we need to get moving." She turned and started up a low ridge, the first climb of many.

The three men scrambled after Hawker as she set a blistering pace, in spite of the elevation and heat, both of which were rising. They skirted larger and larger boulders, each of which formed small pools of shade. The tiny oases tempted them to linger, but time was slipping away.

"You think there might be any rattlesnakes up here?" Wickwire was cautiously looking under a boulder. He panted a few times. "I just can't get my breath today. Maybe it's the heat."

Scott laughed. "Rick, no self respecting reptile would be that dumb to be out in the sun. Only we stupid people are out here. Besides, rattle snakes are nocturnal."

Rick grimaced. "Yeah, well, even so, don't go sticking your hands or feet under any rocks. That's all we'd need would be a case of snakebite. It would make for a perfect day." He coughed some more "Man, this cough won't go away." A paroxysm of coughing shook him.

"I see some scrubby bushes up here!" Hawker was way up slope, fifty meters ahead. "Maybe a spring or a seep. Rick, we'll take a break up here. And drink some water."

After a few more stumbling minutes, the coughing Wickwire collapsed onto a boulder at Hawker's feet. He did not look very well. Jenkins brought up the rear, his tail dragging too. They were in a narrow draw; scrubby bushes surrounded a shallow rock pool, now dry except for a muddy puddle. Scott prowled around, seeing no real shade, then propped the beacon on a rock while he got a drink from Amanda's canteen.

She looked over the two bedraggled cadets. "You two look awful. Let's check you out. Ed, let's see what the medical scanner says about you." The tiny device bleeped a few times as she ran it over his head and chest. "This says you're alright, but you sure look bad."

"I got absolutely no sleep last night. Must have been all that coffee at the Cafe. And this heat is killing me. I never do like heat." Jenkins wiped his streaming face. "I don't think I've ever sweat this much before."

Scott squinted at the cloudless sky. "I don't think we'll get relief anytime soon. We'll have to just finish and get out of here."

Meanwhile Hawker was examining Wickwire, who had slumped flat to the ground. "Rick, the monitor says your oxygen level is way down and your heart is racing. I don't understand it, it can't be the altitude!"

Coughing continued from the prone cadet. "I just can't… uh, breathe." He coughed more than ever before. His entire body shook with each spasm.

Jenkins opened the second canteen, and pressed it to his lips. "Here! Rick, for heaven's sake, drink!" He supported Wickwire's head as he poured water into his mouth.

Scott caught Hawker's eye, motioning that they should step away. When they had moved away from their team, Scott whispered. "Amanda, we've got a vera long way to go, and I don't see how Rick can go on. And Ed doesn't look too good either, though not as bad. Maybe…"

"Yeah, I think you're right." She checked her chronometer. "We've used up three and a half hours to get here, and we have a long way to go. Maybe we should leave Rick with Ed to care for him."

"I'm worried about Rick. I've never seen anybody get so run down. There's something about that cough that's tickling my memory. But I can't place it." Scott's brow was furrowed. "Wait a minute! Of course! Wasn't Rick cleaning plasma conduits on his deployment?"

"Let me think, she said, as she reviewed her memory of the conversation last night. "Yes, I think you're right. What does that mean?"

"I think he's got plasma cough. You get it from plasma corrosion products. If they weren't wearing the newer dust masks, that would do it. And combined with the heat and altitude…"

"I thought you were on the Engineering track. Since when did you read up on Occupational Medicine?"

"Picked it up reading about plasma system repair, I guess. We should leave Wickwire here. There's s no way he can continue." He dug a hole in the sand with his boot. "That is, if you agree."

"I think you've pegged it right, Scotty. You think the two of us can get that beacon up there in ninety minutes?" She pointed to the dark peak towering above them.

"Lass, we'll just have to make it happen. Maybe a miracle would be in order."

Ed was bundling the limp Rick under the meager shade of a survival blanket tied to two bushes when they came back. "Rick's down for the count. Best leave me here with him, while you two get the job done. The scanner says that Rick's got some kind of lung congestion, that's what's slowing him down. I gave him a hypospray to help him out."

Hawker bravely looked at Scott then turned back to Ed. "Alright, we'll do what we can. We'll leave you the medkit and a canteen while we climb this horrible mountain. But if his condition worsens, you may to call for an emergency extraction. They monitor all the emergency frequencies."

"Just get the job done. Alright?" Jenkins frowned. "Don't know how we'll spin this in our team report."

Scott smiled. "Laddie, there's nothing wrong with tending to a downed comrade _and_ getting the mission done." He patted Ed on the shoulder and turned to see Amanda picking up the beacon. "Right. Lass, let's see if we can best this little mountain."

"Ed, we'll call you in an hour. Good luck!" Amanda turned to Scott. "Come on Mr. Scott, let's climb!"

The away team, now reduced to two, headed up the scrubby mountain side. They lost sight of Wickwire and Jenkins in a few minutes as they made their way through a boulder field, some of the rocks as large as shuttles. The sound of Wickwire coughing followed them for a time and then was lost in the distance as they assaulted the slope. As they ascended, they had to push through more frequent scrubby and thorny plants.

Scott pushed his way through another tangle. "These blasted things…" He felt the scratches on his arms and hands grow in number. "How can there be plants out here in the desert?"

"At higher… altitudes, it gets… cooler and wetter. That's why. Getting winded," she grunted.

"Slow down, Amanda!"

"Can't, Scotty. Keep going!" She brushed past him. "Too much, Scotty? Let me lead for a while."

"Alright. Be my guest. But watch out for your eyes."

Amanda ducked her head as she pushed a tall scrubby plant out of the way. "Right." As she pushed upward through the thicket, she though now was as good a time as any to ask Scotty something. "Scotty, there's not another person around for miles, so I have to ask you a question."

"Sure, Amanda, away with it."

"Scotty, you've been acting rather odd. Sometimes you're brazen, and then later quiet and withdrawn. And then at other times, you're just like the old Montgomery Scott. What's going on?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Beacon**

He looked at her slight form, covered in dust with a scratched face, standing above him on the steep slope. "Lass, I canna tell you."

"That's all? You can't? Scotty, what's happened to you? Or maybe the question is what happened out there? Out on the _Grizzly_ on your field assignment?"

"Aye, Amanda, you're skirting something that I canna talk about." He looked down and kicked a rock. "Just don't want to…"

"But Scotty," she looked at his stricken face. "It was bad, wasn't it?"

The heat and dust brought tears to his eyes, but he knew that it wasn't only the dust. He cleared his throat. "Amanda, I didn't think so at first." He took a deep breath and looked down at his dusty boots. "But yes, lass, it was bad. Vera bad!"

She looked hard at Scott, his face downcast. "You want to talk about it?'

"Thanks, Amanda, but I'd be breaking regs. Starfleet Secrets Act, you know?"

Hawkins shivered a little. To invoke the Secrets Act it had to be very serious. "Was it ship-to-ship action?"

"The _Grizzly_ carried only popguns, Amanda. No way the old girl could…" and he looked at her hard. Amanda was smarter than most of his friends, so there was no way he could give her a snow job. "Yes, it was."

"Casualties, Scotty?"

He gulped. "Not on our side. We, uh, I." He stopped than tried to start again. "I, well, you see…"

She took two steps down the slope and hugged Scotty hard. "Oh, Scotty, I am so sorry."

He was silent for a minute. "That's alright, lass." Her arms held him tight and it was the best thing to be with a friend at that moment. "We'd better be going."

She released him and hitching the beacon higher on her back, turned to go. "Scotty, we're here for you. Even Wickwire. I know it doesn't seem like it. But Rick can't you tell how much he'd like to be like you. That's why he's so nasty sometimes. Because he knows he never will be." She patted his dark hair for a moment. "Now let's get back to this mountain."

"Amanda, let me take point. And me give me that beacon, you've had for the last half hour."

"Ok, Scotty. Go for it"

He shouldered the beacon, its hard lumps digging into his back. He passed her and set a challenging pace. As they climbed higher he could see patches where the thorny bushes were lacking. "I can see a better route. Come on!" He led her onto a steep but nearly bush free patch covered with sandy soil. They rapidly made a lot of progress when Scotty's communicator beeped. He flipped it open. "Scott, here!"

"Scotty, this is Jenkins! I just called for an emergency beam out. I can't rouse Rick. The medkit says his lungs are filling up! I need to get him out of here!"

"Aye, Ed. My guess is that he has plasma cough from plasma corrosion. Be sure to tell the doctors that. We'll finish up soon. If anyone asks, tell them we're less than …" he checked the tricorder. "One hundred meters from the peak. Now scoot!"

"Roger, we're gone. Good luck!"

"I sure hope that Rick is alright!" said Amanda, who looked worried.

"They'll fix him up. I think treatment is pretty straight forward."

She looked at her grubby companion. "Come on, Doctor Scotty, let's finish this little excursion."

"Aye, lass, let's get off this bloody mountain. And I'm an engineer, not a doctor!" They started the final assault. Larger boulders became fewer and fewer as they advanced. Finally they got to the top, a rounded hump with a few rocks sticking up.

"Let's get this thing set up," she looked at her wrist chronometer. "We've got fifteen minutes to emplace this thing and get it active."

Scott dug into the loose soil, until he found a crack between two rocks. "Aye, right about here." He unslung the beacon and extended a spike from the bottom. He wiggled it into place, until it was firmly lodged into the mountain. "There me fine little beacon. Now let's see you dance." He slid open a panel, flipped a safety catch and pushed a key. Nothing happened.

"Shouldn't that status light come on?" Hawkins pointed into the recess, where an obvious status lamp remained dark.

"Yeah, I think…" Scott swung the tricorder up and changed some settings. "Checking the power system. Not good; not at all. Lass, we've got a dead power cell."

"Of all the stupid, idiotic, hare brained errands! All the way up this mountain and it won't work?" Hawkins kicked a rock, launching it. "Can you believe it?"

"Lassie, you don't think we'll be beaten be a teeny little problem like that will you?" Scotty was smiling. He broke open the beacon and pulled out a grey cylinder. He examined the label. "I think, here it is. Sixty volts at fifty amps. It might just work. Hand me your communicator."

"Oh, right! Mr. Engineer Scott is on the job," she said sarcastically, but she handed over the device.

He opened her communicator and pulled out a slim box. "Now this here is a standard power cell. One hundred volts at fifty amps. A bit too powerful for the beacon to handle. But, let me see." He started poking around inside the battery cavity.

"Scott, we have just a few minutes to finish this mission, and you're going to rebuild the beacon. Give me a break!"

"Not rebuild. No. Only jury rig a bit. Ah! Yes, I think this might work. Now for some wiring." He smashed Hawker's communicator with a rock and pulled slim wires out of the debris. "Yes, I think these will do nicely."

Amanda dropped to the ground as Scott sang a jaunty tune, twisting wires together. "Scotty, what are you doing?"

"I'm improvising, so let me do it!" He unlimbered his type one phaser and putting a bit of the broken communicator on a rock adjusted the weapon. "Lassie, look away!"

"What you doing?" she could see the dazzle of phaser energy through her closed eyes. "A little blacksmithing? We're almost out of time."

Scott gave her a fierce stare. "I'll have you know that the Scotts were smelting iron when your people were, well, I don't know, running a printing press or something. Sorry, Amanda. I'm making a shunt to soak up the extra current." He poked at the now cooled lump on the rock. "Yes, that'll do." He put the melted piece into the twisted wires he had fashioned, added another burst of phaser energy, and then joined them to the communicator cell. He stuffed the jury rig into the beacon. "Now to see if the cover will close… yes! Good. Time?"

"About two minutes!"

Scott smiled at Hawkins. "That's plenty of time. Wouldn't be any fun if it twas easy! Let's light this beacon!" He pushed the activating key and the dark status lamp turned green. He picked up the tricorder and studied the tiny screen. "No signal!"

Hawkins yelled at him. "Scott, come on, forget it! We failed."

"Not yet, we haven't!" He pulled the top off the beacon, finding a loose connector. "Ah! Power, but no antenna!" He twisted the connector into place and reassembled the beacon. "Let's try it now!" Scott pushed the activating key again and a pulsing filled the air and his face lit up. "That's better my poor wee bairn. All fixed now! See, Amanda. No problem at all!" He stooped and gathered up the smashed communicator, stuffing the pieces into a pouch. "I've tidied up the workbench, now we can leave." He handed their remaining communicator to his team mate. "Now, Cadet Hawkins, if you'd be so kind as to call for our beam out."

Hawkins took the comm device and cast an approving look at Scott. "Yes, Mr. Scott, I think you are an acceptable team member. Based on your performance today, perhaps I'll request you next time!"

"You requested me?"

"That little errand I had to run before we met for coffee last night? That was me picking my away team. You didn't think you ended up here by accident, did you?" With a mischievous grin, she flipped open the communicator. "Away Team Beta Two! Beacon is active! Requesting beam out. Two to transport!"

Scott looked at the view from the peak in a daze. Amanda had requested him? Then he materialized on the transporter platform, back at Starfleet Academy. "Accident, me lassie?"

She smiled at him, through the dirt on her pretty face "No, no accident, Scotty. Now let's get to debriefing and check on Rick." Then she ran off the platform.

The tech looked at the filthy cadet standing there. "A rough mission, Cadet?"

"Not a bit of trouble. Nothing at all. Too easy." Then Scotty ran off too.

The tech looked at the dirt left on his clean platform. He shook his head in disgust. All too typical cadets; they make a mess and then run off. He bent to his cleaning gear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Pay the Piper**

Porter seemed quite bored as he debriefed the grimy and tired Jenkins, Hawker, and Scott. "And Cadet Wickwire is resting well in hospital?"

"Aye, sir. He is. Docs say he'll be alright in a day or two. And Scott was correct with his condition. Something he brought back from his trip on the _Intrepid_, "said Jenkins. "Sir, I was wondering if we did right to evacuate Wickwire when we did. He was struggling from the beginning. Would we have done better to evac him earlier?"

"I think that all in all that part went well. Please review the procedures for away team medical emergencies if you have any doubts about your actions. However, I want to hear more about what Mr. Scott pulled."

"Sir?" Scotty had been day dreaming.

"Yes, Mr. Scott! What did you do to that beacon?"

"Well sir, I determined that the beacon cell was depleted. We should have verified that before we left. We wrongly assumed that the equipment had been completely checked out. So there Hawkins and I were on that mountain after that hard slog and no power. So with just a bit of jury rigging I wired a communicator power cell into the beacon and got it operating."

"You activated the beacon!" And he sat bolt upright. "Yes, I see. Have you talked to anyone else who has been on that particular exercise before?" His tone was probing.

"No sir." Scott shifted uneasily in his chair. "Oh, and there was a loose lead on the antenna, had to fix that too."

Porter gnawed on a thumbnail. "You're certain? Anything else?" Seeing no answer, he rose. "Now get out of here! Look at the mess you've left on my floor. Disgraceful!" after they left he punched his desk comm. "Sir, I just debriefed Beta Two, and we might have a situation!" He was not happy. Not at all.

Thursday came and went, the cadets looking forward to the weekend. But Scotty remained worried about his Friday meeting with Dr. Walker. But whatever it was, he tired to put his concerns aside. Although he hadn't gotten very much sleep the past two nights. The away exercise had been tough, but it had left him wondering if he was on the right track. Did he belong at Starfleet? After the action in the Rubicon, he kept getting flashes of the exploding pirate vessel, whose demise could only be laid on his shoulders. How many sentients had he killed with that trick of warp drive mechanics? What was it Captain Larson had said? Sorry that he had been there to see it. Well if Nils Larson was sorry, so was he.

Scotty dragged through the Friday morning classes, and at thirteen hundred hours he pushed the call button on Dr. Walters' office. The door whisked open.

The old professor was sitting behind his messy desk, littered with data plaques. "Oh, Mr. Scott!" he shouted welcomingly. "Come in! I was looking over some old records of yours. Please have a seat." He waved the cadet into a chair.

Scott settled in and summoning his courage, spoke. "Dr. Walters, sir, I'd like to know why you asked me here today. It's been bothering me, a wee bit."

"Worried, Mr. Scott? Now what would you have to worry about? Hm?" He stared at the cadet.

"Worried, sir? Not exactly."

"Scott, would you just let it out?" The professor sighed noisily. "Son, do you think you're the only cadet who has struggled? And I don't mean your grades."

Scott stared at the ceiling for a few moments, and when he looked down, his eyes were bothering him. "Dr. Walters, I canna talk about it. The Secrets Act…"

Walters cut him off. "Secrets Act? That old regulation? My god, cadet, that's not what I'm worried about. And neither are you." He turned his chair to the computer screen, pushed a button on the console and spoke into the device, whose screen was turned away from the student. "Walters here! I've got Cadet Scott with me and I'd like to bring him up for a chat." Getting apparent assent from the screen he replied, "We'll be there directly." He stood up. "Come on Scotty, let's go for a walk. This won't take too long."

Scott looked stricken and his voice shook "Dr. Walters, what's going' on?"

The old prof patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, son, we're going over to the admin building. They're waiting for us."

The student stood and wobbled behind Walters down the hall and into a turbo lift. He started to ask something, but Walters cut him off as the lift doors closed. "Hush, Mr. Scott! Be patient." They traveled in silence for a few minutes.

At one point, the turbolift cruised along a transparent wall, with a sunny afternoon, soaring bridge, and a blue sky beyond. Scott shook at the sight. _Was this the last time he'd see the Academy as a student? Had he torn it for good? Is this when they boot me out? _He could feel sweat on his back.

The lift slowed, stopped and the doors opened. Walters beamed. "Here we are! After you, Mr. Scott!" he said as he ushered him out into a plush waiting room.

The room was large, with teak furniture, a sweeping window overlooking the Bay Bridge, and ranks of portraits on the walls. A human clerk, a Lieutenant, sat at a desk and he rose as they approached. ", sir! The Admiral is waiting; please go in."

The shaking student felt Walters take him by the arm, and practically drag him towards double doors, which opened at their approach. _Yes, this was it! The end! Goodbye Starfleet! What would his mum and pap say? Oh well, I guess I can get a job on the Kuiper Belt run, maybe. _He squared his back as the highly decorated Admiral Janus Martlette, Commander of Starfleet Academy, turned his piercing gaze onto his shivering frame. He snapped to military attention in front of the much decorated officer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Real Steel**

Admiral Martlette put down the padd he was holding and stood up, gruff words coming from his mouth. "Walters, another student to counsel?" He wondered what he done wrong to end up here. There were many things he had done wrong, but there were many more he had done right. He sighed at the administrative jungle he was immersed in. And here was another petty detail to deal with!

"Janus, you knew we were coming," Walters answered. "And please let the poor boy get out of his hard-wired attention, would you?"

Commander Martlette laughed. "At ease, cadet! Now, Walters, just what do you need me for this afternoon? I've got visit from the Vulcan ambassador shortly about a prospective student and I have to prepare for that meeting. Let's make this short."

Walters smiled. "What say we all sit down?" and without an answer swept Scott to a conference table. "Here, Mr. Scott. Please sit." He waved the Admiral over. "Come on, Janus. And take that glare off your face. You look like you did at Mizar!"

"You may remember, George," began the admiral, who started to grin. "That we were out numbered two-to-one. My concerns and my look way back then were well founded." He crossed to the table and sat.

Scott blanched as he belatedly remembered Starfleet's clash with a Klingon battle force in the Mizar-Alcor system fifteen years ago. _Admiral_ _Marlette was there? _Scott gulped, as the cold grey eyes of Janus Martlette skewered him to his chair. _This was the man who knocked out two Klingon battlewagons with a crippled cruiser? Oh my God! _Scotty braced himself for an ugly encounter.

Admiral Martlette picked up his padd and stared at the quaking cadet. "But let us not discuss history. Ancient history at that. A little matter you wanted to discuss, George?"

"Yes Janus. It seems that Mr. Scott here has a bit of problem."

Martlette looked at his padd. "I see you were on the _USS Grizzly_ during her action out at Rubicon?"

Scott answered meekly. "Yes, sir."

"Seems like Lt. Cmdr. Larson thought highly of you." He read some more. "Do you know that he wrote a commendation for you, cadet?"

Scott started. "No, sir, I dinna." He flashed on a memory of a happy Larson and Chief Engineer Clarke in a crowded and stuffy office aboard the _Grizzly_.

"And do you also know that your brilliant improvisation on her engines has been thoroughly evaluated by the top warp people at the Starfleet Yards at Utopia Planitia on Mars?"

"No, sir," the cadet began shakily. "I dinna know that sir. If I may ask, what did they think about it? Sir?"

Martlette looked at the cadet, the young and ashen face just now starting to show some sign of color. "Yes, Mr. Scott it is about the engineering, isn't it? Always?" He looked at Walters. "What do you think George? Shall we spill the beans?"

Walters answered. "Of course Janus, if you think so."

Janus pushed his chair away from the table, stood and walked to the window. He stood there for a few moments and then turned. "Mr. Scott, it seems like you have created a little problem, or two, for us at Starfleet."

Scott braced himself for what was coming. _Sorry, mum, I tried._

"Son, I got a report from Porter about that little away team exercise you were on. Do you know that you were supposed to fail?"

Scott was rattled, as his ears told him something he'd not expected. "What do you mean, sir?"

Martlette shook his head, but smiled. "Those old beacons we give the teams are not supposed to work. They always have dead power cells and they are obsolete. Just surplus distress beacons. But you, it seemed, got it to work." He smiled some more. "Son, do you know that we had ships from as far away as Epsilon Eridani respond to your _working_ beacon you set up on that mountain? We had to scramble a team up there to shut it off. First time that's happened."

"Not supposed to work, sir?" Scott paused. "And I…"

George Walters laughed. "Yes, Scotty you fixed it!"

Scott felt trapped between the Commander and Dr. Walters but he relaxed as he saw they were both smiling. "Sorry, sir."

"No apologies needed, Mr. Scott. Just interesting to be in that chair over there," and he pointed towards his ornate desk" when these things happen. And, by they way, the heads of both Field Techniques and Distress Beacon Engineering want a word with you. They'd really like to understand how you pulled it off, and so quickly too."

"Sir, you gave us the mission, and I couldna fail, sir. It seems to me that our phasers, communicators, and all field gear should be rigged to use the same power cells, it would only make sense so they could swap units…" he trailed off. "Sorry, sir."

The Admiral turned his eyes down to his data again. "And I see here that you came up with a rather unique solution to the _Kobayashi Maru_ test, when you were in Command School. Even though it wasn't quite, er, shall we say _legal_?"

"Yes sir." There was nothing else to say about the escapade two years ago that made him finally realize that he was cut out for Engineering, not Command. The cadet looked at both Dr. Walters and the Admiral and took a deep breath. He felt like he was jumping off a high cliff, but he let the words come out. "Sirs, I just want to say that my time here in Engineering School has been enjoyable and fruitful, or so I thought. If you want me to resign, just give me the papers, and I'll go."

The Admiral left out a guffaw. "Resign? Are you mad?" He looked at the wounded young man in front of him. "No, Mr. Scott, you may not resign! If I let the likes of cadets such as you leave, it would be me who would be gone from this office!" He rose and walked to the wide window overlooking the campus. "Come over here, son." Scotty rose and joined the Admiral just as Martlette began to speak. "Cadet what do you see out there?"

Suspecting this was a trick question, Scott replied "Sir, I see the campus. That's the Engineering Quadrangle there, the Life Science building next to it, and I can see a corner of the Command Center."

"Alright, so you see buildings. But that's not what this Academy is about. Not really," the Admiral said. He turned to face the young man. "Buildings, classrooms, laboratories, and dorms. Shells of ferrocrete, durabrick, and glass. But that's not all." Then he walked away from the window and began to pace back and forth.

Dr. Walters spoke up. "Scotty, you'd better listen very closely to the next few sentences. It may make all the difference in years to come."

Admiral Martlette nodded his head. "Yes, Dr. Walters is correct, Mr. Scott. But back to this school and the matter at hand. When Starfleet started this Academy, they knew they'd have to train and teach all new techniques of star flight. How to run engines, pilot new ships, how to manage a crew in distant and dangerous surroundings, and learn how to talk to new races that we'd never met before. Do you see, Scott?"

"Aye, Admiral, I do," said Scotty.

The Admiral continued his pacing. "But this school, well, on Mars at Utopia Planitia we're building ships; new and refit ones. Repairing the damages that the Universe and our enemies, are wont to inflict upon us. But those hulls of duranium and steel, those are mere containers of controls and engines. Those aren't the _ships_. No, not at all."

Scott was puzzled. "Sir, I don't understand."

"No, of course not. I haven't let you in on the biggest secret in Starfleet, if not the whole Federation. The secret is this. Every one of those ships is useless."

"Useless?" Scott exploded. "Admiral, they're bonny ships, and they'll sail like the wind. How can you say that they're useless?"

The Admiral stopped his pacing and turned a jolly face to Dr. Walters. "You're right, George. I think he does love the machinery too much." He turned to the cadet, whose young face was twisted into a disbelieving frown. "Mr. Scott, _this_ is the shipyard. This school; this Academy. This is where we train the crews that will drive those ships into the dark; out into the vastness. Here is where we grind and weld, bend and break. Here is where the real steel is forged, not up on Mars. For without the flesh and blood, those mighty ships are just hulks. Useless and empty. Don't you see?"

Scotty's face broke into a knowing smile. "Aye, Admiral, I think I do."

The Admiral turned back to his pacing and with head down he continued his monologue. "Here, Mr. Scott. Right here in San Francisco. Here is where we find out who will break and fail, and who will withstand everything that we throw at them. Here is where we throw out impossible equations, most of which cannot be answered without original thinking. Improbable conditions of testing, simulation, and field exercises. And occasionally, Starfleet gets surprised, by those such as you." He stopped and smiled at the cadet. "Such as by a cadet fires up a defunct distress beacon, with practically his bare hands."

"Aye, Admiral. That I did. Just a bit of improvisation," but now Scott was beaming too.

"Or, also reprograms fifty-year old warp engines to meet their original design intent and neutralizes a deadly enemy force in the process." Martlette put his hand on the cadet's shoulder. "Son, I envy you. For the things that you will do…"

Walters interrupted. "What the Admiral is saying Mr. Scott, is that we need the likes of you. All our training and teaching won't matter a whit if under difficult circumstances a crew should fail. For all your brashness, Starfleet needs you, and your fellows. For it may just be that boldness that you will need when the chips are down." Walters came towards the window as he said this.

The cadet felt embarrassed now. "Sirs, uh, I was only doing my duty."

"And did it very well, too. Mr. Scott, Walters tells me that you've been off your feed a bit. A bit unsteady around your friends and explosive as well. But still pulling through. Now what's that about?" The Admiral knew very well what was wrong, but he needed the kid to say it aloud.

Scott gulped and felt his face grow hot. "Sir, those people on the pirate vessel…"

"Go on, son."

Scott clenched his teeth, but the words were forced out. "Sir, I, uh… blew them … to pieces." He felt a hot tear rush down his face.

Admiral Martlette looked at the kid. He remembered the first time he'd had to fire a phaser in anger, and it had cost a man his miserable life. The face of that wretched Tellerite thief flashed in his mind, just as it did each night, when the shadows were long. "I understand son. Believe me, I do." The remembered flash of the phaser fire lit up the thief's armful of rations, stolen from their encampment on Beta Vela II. He took a deep breath. "Scott, don't you think that we all," and he cleared his throat, "have things that we regret? Things that we cannot change. Things that we had to do. Because it was our duty!"

Scott rubbed his face, trying to keep focus on the Admiral's craggy, yet now kindly face. "Aye, aye, Admiral. I understand."

"You saved your ship, Scotty. Remember that. No matter what. Remember that you and you alone, saved the _Grizzly_ and her crew from those scum. Who, I might add, would have had no qualms about killing the lot of you."

"Aye, Admiral. I understand, I suppose."

"And it won't be the last time, either, that you have to do things that are very hard, and that you _will_ regret. Be they taking action against an enemy or ordering men into a dangerous situation. Even those times that some of your shipmates will not come back. Especially the latter. Do you understand, Mr. Scott?"

"Aye aye, Admiral." Scott felt a slight sense of relief settle onto his shoulders.

Martlette turned to Walters. "Anything else, George?"

"No, Janus, I think you've set the right tone. Thank you."

"Thank you for giving a chance to help and I hope I have." He turned his attention to the cadet. "Mr. Scott, any other questions?"

"No, sir. And thank you sir, for the attention." Scott blew out a breath.

The Admiral let the iron commander look creep back onto his face. "Dismissed, cadet! You too, Walters! Now I have real work to do!"

After Scott and Walters left and the doors closed, he slowly walked to the table and retrieved his padd. He crossed to his desk and sat for a few moments, savoring the moment. It had been far more satisfying than most days in this office. His one real regret about the port his career had brought him to. A few ghosts of commands past paraded through his mind, but he banished them to the fringes of his mind. _Back to work now, Janus._

He turned to his padd and brought up the briefing file for his meeting with Vulcan Ambassador T'Prin. This looked like a thorny problem. He read some more, flipping to the data file attached. A thin Vulcan face stared at him from the padd. His parents were Sarek of Vulcan and Amanda Grayson of Earth. Now who was this Vulcan named Spock and why did he want to join Starfleet?

**- THE END -**

**Author's note: I wrote this in 2007 as a sequel to 'Rubicon Crossing' where I explored Scotty's early days at Starfleet.**

**Fun to look back on my somewhat heavy handed approach to dialog at that time, but it must have 'worked' in some way as my airline pilot friend, who is also an aerospace engineer and USAF retired F-4 pilot, read this he was trying to figure out the voltages and currents of that blasted beacon!**

**I hoped you enjoyed this yarn.**

**Ad astra, robspace54**


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